Princess Majora: A Victim in Time
by The Masked Sage
Summary: The ancient followers of Demise left a legacy only a handful know. After their defeat at the hands of Lady Hylia, an arcane sect built a stone fortress deep in the Ikana region of Termina. But after disappearing in a single night, a mysterious artifact was abandoned, hidden away beneath the foundations. A mask with dark and terrible powers bearing the name Majora.
1. Prologue

I lived a mere shadow of a life. I try to remember my name, but it's like remembering an echo instead of a voice. Or seeing ripples in water, but no stone. That's all my life has been: echoes and ripples. I lived only the consequences of others. But now my spirit wanders - no longer bound to a cage.

My once fragmented mind assembles before my eyes, piece by piece, memory by memory. Near the rim of consciousness, my fingers rasp stone rubble and rake grass and dirt. My vision clears and a fine-dressed woman sits horseback in a pasture nearby. Her skin is pale and she holds a glowing bow. Her eyes stay fixed on something. What is she spectating? My gaze follows hers and I survey two others in a golden field. One seems like a monstrous, black mountain and the other is a young man, fit and green. Green? Green just like - swords swinging, they lurch at one another. I hear the clashing echoes. I cannot tell if this is real or a memory or pure fantasy?

A small imp lies near me. Her hair burns orange and she cries. I know her from somewhere. I feel for her somehow. My senses are dulled, but I can feel another near. Is it him? I must thank him. I never got the chance to thank him…

No one comes to my side and I lay prostrated for hours. Time passes; and my arms tremble like branches in a squall as I rise onto my hands and knees. I hear the sound of someone approaching, they kick dirt with every step. I peek upward and see golden boots bouncing light in all directions.


	2. Part 1: Dawn of the First Day

I glide down the corridor, hearing the echoes of my leather boots reverberating off the stones. But as I approach my personal chambers, I hear something else. The pitter of faint footsteps. I about-face; no one is there and I enter my room. Twisting the silver key into the keyhole, I cast an enchantment on the wooden door. I then pass by the bed to scrutinize my narrow face in the mirror.

My eyes reflect the color of fresh apples, green and bright. I notice that my purple hair is losing its black streaks. I grab the swamp-witch's potion and massage the silky tonic into the strands. After a minute or two, the black streaks reillumine. I grip the bottle for a moment, a frown spans my face. I remember the old witch, she was very kind and eccentric. How foolish and stubborn father is. I hate his rules; I want to leave this fortress.

I lather my face using homemade soap and water with my wash bowl and pitcher. As I dry my face, I wander to the small balcony facing the setting sun. Half submerged into the west, the sun paints orange, green, and pink across the underbellies of clouds. I look down at the temple. It faces away from me, but I can clearly see the four pillars and fiery finger. I faintly hear the boulders, crashing and rolling. How many spies have those boulders killed?I return my gaze upward and glimpse the black silhouette of the clock tower on the horizon. My melancholic frown reappears; I think of music, laughter, dancing, crying, and art. Frequenting Clock Town for the annual Carnival of Time just isn't enough. Even then, I have to wear a mask the whole time.

"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?" I hear.

My eyes widen and then narrow. I almost spin around, but manage to control my impulses.

"It is, father." I say coolly and glance behind me. Father leans against the doorway to my chambers. I progress, "Was my spell that easy to breach?"

"A little more practice is all you need." He remarked and chortled.

"That, or you shadowed in while I was busy with my potions. Which would explain why my enchantment is still intact."

Not hiding his chagrin, he continued, "You got me there. But come now, sealing the door and coloring your hair, whatever happened to the little girl that ran the halls, giggling and roaring?"

"She realized her reach was limited because she lived in a cage. There are so many things I want to learn and see beyond Stone Tower, father. The books in the library describe such places, places with glowing seahorses and dragonflies bigger than me. But will I ever go to those places? No. Will I ever reach those dreams? No."

Father's gaze lowered, his blue bangs covering his eyes.

"I do not mean to abandon the tribe or its creed, but we are not living anymore. We are dwindling."

"I know, Majora, I am well aware of our situation. But I believe our time has finally come again."

"Father?"

He brushed his hair behind his right ear and said, "The Wise Men have returned from the Golden Land with news. We are closer than ever, Majora."

"You mean you're closer."

Silence passed, then Father capriciously said, "Did you know that your uncle Oumari's apprentice, Eoni, has asked me for your hand in marriage."

I wasn't surprised, "Eoni?"

"Eoni." Father confirmed, "Think about it, Majora: when your uncle dies, Eoni will be the next mayor—we'll make sure of it—and you could be the mayor's wife. You could leave Stone Tower and spend your years in Clock Town, visiting all the other regions and chasing sunsets as well. Does that appeal to you?"

"How soon could I marry Eoni?" I say, tired of his teasing tone.

He smirked. "You're that anxious to leave? Your attendant has not even reported you bleeding Moon's-blood, be patient. But in order to have my blessing, I need something from you. And what I ask is not a frivolous thing. But you must learn that freedom has a high price."

"What do you wish of me, father?"

"Three years of your life."

"Three years?"

"Maultrich informs me that—"

"Maultrich is a strange and dark man. I don't trust him."

"Nonetheless, he is the high priest and the last of the great mages. He has informed me of another way to resurrect Lord Demise."

I leer at father. "What does Maultrich know? Lord Ghirahim was only capable of such magic. And I thought Lady Hylia's incarnation was the only acceptable sacrifice—and she is protected under sign of the Fierce One."

"Very true, my daughter. But Maultrich has another theory."

() () ()

The whole tribe joins the procession, mumbling and conversing. They amassed in the markets and common areas and then paraded slowly down the main halls, halting at the terrace across from the temple. I hear the words, "war," "Keeta," "oath," "election," and "sacrifice" along the way.

At the gap, I spot Maultrich in his formal, black robes. He announces, "Behold, the Great Temple of Stone Tower! Look! The fiery finger of indignation still burns brightly. If you are ever lost, let the Holy Hand guide your sight always skyward! To those that robbed us, and to where our hope forever lies."

An attendant brings Maultrich his bow and he loses a glowing arrow across the void. It sails and pierces the bloody gem on the temple's front, bleeding crimson everywhere. I shut my eyes and grappled with the uneasiness of shifting gravity. First, I am jostled sideways and then thrown downward to the ceiling. My muscle memory lands me on my feet, poised and calm. My handmaiden brushes dust from her gown and everyone else lands silently.

Father and Maultrich extend the bridge and we traverse the dark pit beneath. I soon stand before the burning eyes and gaping mouth of Stone Tower Temple. I wait a moment: pondering the blackness inside. I enter and the shadows feel so thick that I almost feel them seeping into me.

The procession marches throughout the temple, careful not to fall into the sky. The minstrel's play jaunty tunes as we tread deeper and deeper into the temple. Chamber after chamber, my tribe dances and skips and sings. I spy our tribe's symbol along the walls and floors. It's a figure: masked, caped, and horned. The same emblem is embroidered on my purple cape and white tabard. One of father's guards carries a small wooden chest and is instructed by my father, "Remain here. Should one of the four intervene, use the Giant's Mask."

The final chamber has a gigantic hole in the ceiling; a torrent of silver moonlight spills upward onto the painted floor. Maultrich stands beside the gap, reaches into his belt pouch, and retrieves a handful of white, powdery sand. As he slowly kneads his hand, the sand flows down and swirls rapidly into the hole, forming an enormous eddy that spits light and dust.

"Are you ready, my daughter?" I hear behind me.

Maultrich bids me forward.

"Yes." I whisper and proceed to Maultrich. I gaze upon the vortex and dive into the sky.


	3. Part 2: Night of the Second Day

I knuckle sand from my eyes and before me sprawls a colossal, obsidian ziggurat. I can scarcely survey the entire thing without turning my head. It's nightfall and a desert surrounds the black, torch-lit structure. The desert-edge bounds and leaps beyond fringes I imagine do not exist. The music and laughter fade. Everyone, in one silent mob, ascends the ziggurat to the highest level. There the entire tribe stands around the central ramp where father delivers his introductory speech. The wind pushes and pulls me like a tide, my dress and cape billow wildy. Father stands tall.

"My brothers and sisters," he begins, "we stand here today on Holy ground: the brink of reality and dream. This sacred realm and this beautiful edifice," he motions to our environment and resumes, "created by our ancestors, houses our history and vengeance. Hear well, my people," father motions the tribal code for everyone to sit, " for our tribe's history is carried in this desert wind.

"In the early days of creation, the Goddesses Three formed land and sea and sky. They fashioned races of gods, demons, and creatures, and all lived together. The Three celebrated their newest creations by forging their governing agent, the Triforce. A relic that can alter reality with a single touch. They then ordained the cursed Knil, the Fierce One, as their regent and all, all seemed well." I remember when grandfather recited the tribal history. He would detail the love relationship between the Fierce One and Lady Hylia, but father omits it.

"-dawn of avarice came and many souls sought the Triforce. Fearing it might fall into unworthy hands, the Three reflected the realm into two others: a light and a dark realm. With three realms existing, the Three placed the Triforce in the light realm and supposed who would be its protector and guardian. The candidates were gods: the Fierce One, Lady Hylia, and the Supreme Dominion." I glance around at my tribe; everyone focuses on father. I wonder how the tribe manages to fit on the ziggurat's highest level. When I was younger, people strained to hear from the steps. Why are we so few now? I return my attention to father,

"-his failures disqualified him and the task turned to Lady Hylia or Suprme Dominion to swore and guard the Triforce from evil in his stead. But Lord Dominion knew in his heart that his power only could protect the Triforce and all sacredness. He demanded the title of protector and regent over the light realm. However, the Three Goddesses chose the first and sentenced Supreme Dominion to rule the dark realm.

The three worlds were then tethered and settled using special paths such as the one beneath this land's clock tower, and for a time peace abounded. Seeing tranquility, the Three returned to their divine and distant land.

"But Lord Dominion could not forgive their ignorance. It was then that the mages of our tribe found favor in his sight. Master Maultrich is the last of those mages. He has summoned us to conclave in order to disclose his plan for our Lord's return. I say hear and obey his words!"

A murmur wafted amongst the crowd. Maultrich arose and ascended the platform as father descended. His eyes glistened as if a firestorm blazed behind them.

"Many thanks, Captain Kumari, King of Masks. As our history tells, we allied with Supreme Dominion and became his personal attendants. His frustrations bleed to pure malice and he planned to battle the light-dwellers for the possession of the Holy Power. Supreme Dominion forsook his godhood and became the Demon King, Demise; our Lord and Dark Master. He promised that, in return for our loyalty, the Triforce would grant us magic and prosperity beyond comprehension. Passing through the Trivium beneath this land's Tower of Time, we broke a fissure up into the Golden Land! At Lord Demise's side, victory was near. And his Lordship would have seized the Triforce if Lady Hylia had not desperately sent it skyward. She was then aided by the Fierce One: Lady Hylia's disgraceful and so-called hero."

Jeers and laughs erupted from the crowd.

"Yes, indeed, but it seemed the fallen hero still had some spunk in him. Together, they imprisoned Lord Demise with a foul seal. And as we retreated, we learned of the Fierce One's other unforgivable sin. In the Trivium, he destroyed the third gate leading to the dark realm, our home! Cut off from the twilite realm and our families - our beloved children, fathers, wives, and sisters - we were left at mercy of the Fierce One's lumbering proxies, the giants. But did we surrender?"

The tribe roared, "NO!"

"We made a home, here, in Ikana and built Stone Tower as our oath to possess the Triforce: to consume its power, influence, and prowess. We plotted and prepared.

"After centuries however, Lord Ghirahim's bokoblin messengers reached our doors with more terrible news. Ghirahim performed a perfect resurrection of Lord Demise - body and spirit - but both were conquered by the Spirit of that fallen hero. Before the bokoblin could request reinforcements from our tribe, it was too late. The spirits of the three great gods entered into a permanent cycle of birth, death, and renewal for eternity. We could never know when Lord Demise would incarnate again. Hope was lost for hundreds of years. But no less than three months ago did we, your Wise Men, locate a powerful incantation. The precise incantation that the Great Mages searched a millennia to find."

My stomach feels abruptly empty and groggy. I spot Maultrich's servants slowing rising from the tribe, three carry candles lit with black flames. My stomach churns every time I stare at the flames.

"- journeyed to the light realm and discovered a new nation known as Hyrule. Within its Royal Library, we discovered a sealed portion of forbidden spells. One spell, the Dark Rites, detailed an incantation for resurrection by harnessing the forces of destruction, sorrow, and despair into three vigil candles.

"Years ago, we sent the Phantom Beast Bongo Bongo to search for the Twilight Mirror and stone. By fate's design, it seems, we also ordered him to seed destruction in the Golden Land. This destruction has manifested itself as the Flame of Destruction!

And there was also the notorious drifter, the Skull Kid. We manipulated the dastardly imp into bringing sorrow and misfortune to all regions of Termina. This misery kindled the Flame of Sorrow.

And do not forget the millennia of despair our tribe has felt of losing our Dark Lord. This hopelessness sparked the Flame of Despair. And now, behold my people, the Flames of Destruction, Sorrow, and Despair glow gloriously!" At this statement, his servants mount the platform and brandish the candles to the crowd. Maultrich goes on,

"When the candles ignite and royal blood spills, Lord Demise shall be reborn. The sacrificial blood must be - it is said - of the incarnation of Lady Hylia." Pervasive cries echo from the clan. "I know your thoughts, but fear not. This works to our advantage, for we do not need Lady Hylia's sacrifice. We will not perform a bodily resurrection of our Lord. We will, instead, break the seal on his heart. His heart will then inhabit our own princess, Lady Majora, for a mere three years, at which time the spell will dissipate. Her royal blood is key to this magic.

"I have educated Princess Majora regarding the Dark Rites and she graciously volunteered to be a vessel for Lord Demise. She will lose three years of her young life in slumber, for our gain. With the Demon King's heart - his drive, power, and greed - on our side, we will wage war on Termina and the Golden Land. Our time has come! Princess Majora, will you please join me now at the Hexing Pedestal for your divine destiny."

I hear his complacent tone. He has waited his whole life for his time of glory: to be Demise's lap-doggy. I stand and a muted gasp follows me up the ramp. Maultrich holds out his hand for mine - I imagine a bird bursting from its cage - and I reluctantly take it. His hand is hot and dry just like my own windpipe.

"We will reclaim our kingdom in the Dark Land and rule over all existence! For it is here in Termina that we have rewritten history and manipulated the world to our advantage. We erased the history of the Three Goddesses and the Fierce One and replaced it with our mask of deception. We control Clock Town, and soon the other regions and realms. We have lived and operated in shadow, but no longer! Please, my friends, now is the time to mask our faces and knit our magic together to execute the ritual at hand!"

I see hundreds of clansmen with beaming smiles and rejoyceful tears and clapping hands. But I also spy the dozens of worried and frightened expressions before they disappear behind masks. I scan for father's face, but see only his grinning, white-fox mask. Altogether, the masks look like a heap of broken, colored glass.

"Organize the circles of protection!" Maultrich howls.

Wordlessly, the colorful mass maneuvers and swells like a stormy ocean. A faceless band of tribesmen and women encircle the platform. Another ring forms silently behind it. The rings amass more and more people, rippling outward from the platform-centerpoint. When the final circle settles, I see hands join. The men holding the candles realign as well: one in front of Maultrich and me and the other two stand behind us on the left and right.

"Echo my words and focus your energy!" Maultrich yells and the congregation whispers his words, "Powers of Light and Dark, hear us now!"

I hold my stance as instructed, and Maultrich stations himself behind me. I'm deaf of a moment. I cannot hear the muffled words or the wind. All I hear is my panting breath and my violent heartbeat. I wonder what games await me in Clock Town and what songs I'll sing with the Zoras.

An icy stab pierces my back and I feel warm blood soak my cape. I envision a freed bird, but it flies into the sun and burns into a black, screeching Keese.


End file.
